E. B. Bullet

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2021

Stories (7)

7 Stories

145 karma pts

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“Meet Me Once Your Legs Grow” by E. B. Bullet

A little ghost called to me everyday, a whisper so loud that it danced all the way down, caressing, from the branches of the alligator tree in the upper edges of the everglades. I knew the voice, and it was important that I go see him. The other frogs called me a fool, their throats stretched with laughter anytime I mentioned it. Frogs didn’t go on journeys, we were perfectly safe near the pond; no normal frog would ever even think to go up that far, but then, I was no normal frog. I was in love with an old ghost. I...

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“How to Love a Married Woman” by E. B. Bullet

My marriage was a hastily drawn picture, looked upon as the work of madwomen who painted in unthinking urgency. For me however, it felt less a matter of haphazard color splotches and more so that the strokes were simply confident, and unrestrained. We were linework without preceding sketch. My wife was an amalgamation of thoughts untethered, beautifully complicated and unfinished from the frayed ends of...

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“Just Me” by E. B. Bullet

As a child, I wasn’t sure what constituted a good kid. I kept to myself in gentle hobbies of coloring and reading, keeping to mild mannered behavior. I was not a bad kid, but calling me a good one seemed too far a stretch, as though it weren’t an earned title. Most adults simply thought me shy, a bit too quiet for a growing boy. I thought them right. It seemed to me that adults had the sense of it all, and I’d gathered in my limited mind that my mother was the smartest lady to walk the planet. A woman from Mexico emigrated to America wit...

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“Women Like Kendra” by E. B. Bullet

Kendra Miller lived in Glitters, Texas up until her abrupt departure on a scorching July 14th afternoon. The mosquitos sizzled amidst the heat, smashed against the hot metal of her speeding Chevy Silverado, bound for anywhere past simplicity. Kendra lived in Glitters, and she could not go backPeople in the town were of simple patchwork, intertwined in ordinary ways like a machination with outlined, uncontested purpose. They swallowed steak and potatoes, bathed in buttere...

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“The Fragility of Moonlit Skin” by E. B. Bullet

My parents have long said that I am in sisterhood with the moon, luminescing against the crisp, charred black of the night-fallen sky. My entire family is wrapped in cooked skin tones, like colors of the fertile earth, painted from their temples to the very tips of their toes in patches of brown; but my flesh lives a distinct life—a shivering white like the stark sheets of snow I have seen in picture books. It ends not with my skin. The porcelain hue seeps into the follicles of my coiled hair, slithering from my scalp to the space of my l...

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“They Sang in the Water” by E. B. Bullet

I did not care much for pretzels. Chips did not come up in craving, nor did crackers, or most processed meats slathered in sodium, for that matter. My mind popped in the recollection of such flavors, dripping the memory of them onto my writhing tongue if I let my thoughts wander. I was never one for salt, but my childhood brimmed with memories of Podrezovo beach, and so salt lingered. The taste I could not stand, but the smell I cherished more than anything in the world. Liquid sodium teemed with a life that the sea...

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“In Truth” by E. B. Bullet

From a young age, Tobias knew very well the power of language. His mother had shown him carefully with every storybook she pulled from their well-worn shelves, every sentence she weaved—her word placement endlessly methodical. They would sit by the lake, enwrapped by woody pine near the village, and she would say to him that one’s voice was a magic.“To speak is to bend the world to your will,” she would say. To Tobias, powerless and meek at the peak of age five, this was everything....

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Author bio

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